The Breadstick
by Macaronic-Paradox
Summary: Silly fluff based extract- one shot


**So this is a scene I wrote for another fic I'm working on but was too silly & didn't really fit. Thought I'd throw it out there for you just for fun though :) **

_no beta –sorry_

SCENE: Harry and Ruth are sat in a quiet darkened corner of a bar. Their conversation has been contraind so far and their relationship remains undefined. An unlikely breadstick appears to provide an opportunity to change all that...

They share a smile and both reach to retrieve the one remaining breadstick from the bowl, pausing, Harry who's ever the gentleman is about to concede when Ruth, eyes lit with a smile, offers him a challenge. "I'll fight you for it?"

Harry raises an intrigued eyebrow.

"Not _that _sort of fight, obviously, a game."

Amused he nods "What's the rules?"

Ruth thought a moment before selecting her challenge "OK so if I can get you to turn your hands over without me touching them, I win the breadstick. Deal?"

"Deal" he chuckles.

"So to start, put your hands out in front of me."

Harry lifts his hand in front of her. "Not that way, I meant the other way."

He flips his hands so his palms face upwards and again waits for the Ruth to start. Ruth laughs in her success and reaching for the breadstick Harry realises he's been beat.

"Ah now wait a minute." He grasps her hand as the prized stick is lifted from the bowl.

"I won Harry" she says with a brilliance of pride.

"Hmmm, you played dirty though Ruth, give me a chance to win it back?"

There's a spark of mischief ignited in his eyes and she can help but indulge him. Lowering her prize back to the bowl she waits for him to set his terms.

He maintains the look between them, their smiles equally coy yet equally bold, he wonders how he might optimise this opportunity. Brushing over his lips with his tongue he slightly nips at his bottom lips as he looks around him, the lights are dim and their position in the bar is a relatively secluded one, he dares himself to push his luck.

His voice falls to a quiet and throaty vibration, "I bet Ruth that, that without touching you...that I can kiss you." Despite his boldness he maintains his ever-smoking gaze.

Taken aback Ruth audibly lets out the briefest laughs and splutters with amusement. "Is that so?" She takes a large sip of wine, placing it on the table her face fills with nervous delight. "Show me then."

It's Harry's turn for butterflies, not that he lets it show.

Cherub smile in place he transforms his actions to mimic a theatrical magician. He starts, eyes still fixed with hers, by slowly unbuttoning his cuff links and folding his sleeves up so his arms are exposed below the elbow. This simple act seems to flush Ruth's cheeks with a pale cherry glow, an observation that doesn't escape him, his own heart quickens with excitement.

He slides up the conjoined bench so his leg rests a hair breadth from hers and resting his arm along the backrest of the bench, he continues to narrow the gap between them. To Ruth's amusement, with each move he emphasises that he's not actually touching her. Raising his free hand and placing it so it lines up as though cradling Ruth's cheek she can't help but let out a giggle at the seriousness he's taking in this rather surreal challenge.

Her amusement is quickly replaced with a light headed expectation. The warmth of his hand radiates to her cheek as he tilts and nears his head to hers. His lips stop just short of hers and she's left to witness the stripped passion that lies in his eyes, the feel of his quickened breath blends with her own and she's lost in the spell he's cast on her.

The faintest whisper, "Close your eyes" is his only request.

Her eyes momentarily refuse to close as she holds his gaze a second longer before, with baited breath, she closes them and her senses fire from head to toe.

A second maybe two is all she's offered as she feels his hand connect and draw her into his lips. Kissing her in an unrushed and gentle kiss, he retreats slightly as she lets out a muffled sigh of content. Releasing her head her eyes take a moment to flicker open.

He waits, palpitations thudding through his body, for her to wake from his spell.

Ruth opens her eyes and faced with it in front of her, quickly comes round to reality. "So er you, you lose then." Is her utterly inadequate but only capable response.

Harry's lips curl and his chuckle grows into a laugh as he shakes his head at her, "Oh Ruth, I don't think _I could_ lose."


End file.
